


a little unsteady

by annadavidson



Series: where secrets don't keep [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files Roleplaying Game
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 18:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annadavidson/pseuds/annadavidson
Summary: He doesn’t want them to think he’s weak. He doesn’t want them to think he’s pathetic. Even though he feels like he’s both of those things.Prompt: Trying to handle more than he can.





	a little unsteady

He’s trying not to shake. He recognizes him but his head hurts. He doesn’t think he’s thinking straight so what if he’s not remembering correctly? What if he’s wrong? No he _remembers._ He’s never forgotten. He’s always wished he could forget but he can’t. No he _remembers._ He knows he’s not wrong.

He’s still trying not to shake when he sees him again. He doesn’t want to seem scared. He doesn’t want to seem weak. Except this time he’s trapped. There’s no way he can get out, probably no way he could contact the Summer Court - though he has never been one to go running to the court like a dog with its tail between its legs. He’s always preferred attempting to handle the situation and then crying into his pillow later.

And there’s two of them now. They’re different yet working for the same group, hands ultimately dripping the same blood. He learns their names. _Atlas. Saben._ He extends a hand, dripping with hostility instead of blood at the wizard, at Atlas.

“Damien Glass,” he introduces, feeling fingers wrapping around his hand. He tries to keep his gaze steady. He tries to keep his hand from shaking. He knows they’ll think he’s afraid. He doesn’t know if he’s afraid. All he knows is that he’s angry and he’s not entirely sure all of that anger is directed at the two men.

Atlas smiles. He returns it, fake, not bothering to put effort into trying to make this one look real.

His companions must think he’s being stupid, naive. He’s pretty sure they think he’s an idiot - maybe not all of them but probably majority of them. Maybe they think he’s going to start a fight. He doesn’t want a fight. He never wants a fight. But he doesn’t trust these men. He doesn’t trust their silent masked companions either. He’s not sure what he’ll say if any of his own companions ask why he’s hostile. But they never ask so he never has to explain. Maybe they don’t care. Maybe they just think he’s an idiot. He isn’t sure which he’d prefer.

Then there’s the soul gaze. It doesn’t help. The vampire, Saben, stares right at him and it doesn’t help him feel any better. Afterwards, he repeats to himself over and over, _I will not cry._ He doesn’t want them to think he’s weak. He doesn’t want them to think he’s pathetic. Even though he feels like he’s both of those things.

He stays behind because he’s not willing to negotiate. He insists they let the others out of this trap, hoping it earns him some points with his companions. He remembers once being told by his mother that he shouldn’t care so much what others think of him. He hopes she doesn’t know he still hasn’t learned that lesson.

He’s left alone with Atlas and the conversation doesn’t help. Nothing helps but he’s gotten used to that. The pain never ceases, never gets better. He once again finds himself thinking _time heals all wounds_ is a lie - a cruel lie.

The worst part is that he thinks his conversation with Atlas _should_ help but it doesn’t. It just makes all those emotions he tries to push down every morning boil up and spill over. His hand is on his dagger before he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he doesn’t want to start a fight. He wants to work on a sketch, cook a meal, maybe bake a pie. He wants to practice his painting or perhaps his guitar playing, maybe practice his ukelele.

He strikes the table with his dagger. It barely does any damage, perhaps a nick. He stares at the floor, his body language most likely screaming that it wasn’t a threat, that it was… He isn’t sure _what_ that was but it grounds him and he can think a bit more. His mind feels less cloudy though the pain of a concussion gained earlier still lingers.

Thankfully Atlas doesn’t seem threatened. There’s no magic suddenly striking Damien. They end up striking a deal though Damien isn’t sure if he got the raw end of that or not. He leaves knowing Atlas has learned more about him but unsure how much that is. Atlas knows his world died the day they took Angel from him, the day he had Saben kill him.

But does he know Damien died that day too?

* * *

How long has he known them now? When had he stopped thinking they were monsters? Has he ever  _really_ thought of them that way?

He sinks to the floor by the door to the bar’s kitchen. He’s shaking, he’s not trying to stop. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to care about them. He’s not sure if that means betraying Angel. It feels like it does. But he can’t stop thinking about Atlas in that kitchen, his heart stopping and then being restarted. He can’t stop thinking about Saben attacking that creature. He can’t stop thinking he should have stayed behind to help Saben. He can’t stop thinking he should have known a spell to help Atlas.

Magic is still new to him. He’s twenty-five years old and became a knight at twenty. His world ended when he was eighteen. He’s been in this town since he was seventeen. But none of the magic he knows is helpful right now. He’s useless. Atlas and Saben are just more people he can’t save.

He brings his knees up and buries his face against them. He doesn’t want to cry in front of his companions though he’s already certain he’s the weakest link in the group. He doesn’t want to cry but he no longer has the strength to fake a smile. He just hopes that there’s a next time so he can try to do better.

**Author's Note:**

> Atlas and Saben belong to the campaign's Game Master.
> 
> Based off previous events of the campaign.


End file.
